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BY 



M. WINCHESTER ADAMS. 



NEW YORK : 

FRANCIS W. ORVIS. 
1901. 



7s srd/ 



The LliRARY OF 

OONGRESS, 
Two Cui^iES Received 

DEC. U 190! 

CePVRIOHT ENTRY 

CLASS a^XXa No. 

7. % 2, tf'f 
COPY B. 



Copyright, igoi 

by 

M. Winchester Adams. 



m^^ Sisters 
(3ertruC)e ant) Blsie, 



A CHRISTMAS GREETING. 

I've read sometime, I know not where, 

The Christ Child comes to every heart 
On Christmas eve and asks, 'What message 

Will you send your friend ere I depart?" 
And if the messages have been 
Of kindly thought and cheer 
For one another, on Christmas morn 
The sunbeams smile, the sky is clear 
And all the world looks glad, 

But if too many hearts have answered not 
The sky is cloudy and the world looks sad. 
I know not if the story's true, 
I like the thought and so have written it for you, 
And whether skies are clear or gray 
I wish for thee and thine, A Merry Christmas 
Day. 



CONTENTS. 



"Polly" I 

A Nursery Story 3 

Gray Coat and Blue Eyes 4 

Scarlet Pimpernel 6 

Doris 7 

Two Locations 8 

Great-Grandma's Calache 9 

A Mother's Love ii 

Ted 12 

At Eventide 14 

A Nursery Outing 15 

Cradle Song 17 

Our Nature 19 

March 20 

Little Things 21 

Monarch and Subject 23 

The New Year 24 

The White Chrysanthemum 25 



CONTENTS. 

Souvenirs 26 

The Cichorium Intybus 28 

October 29 

Then You Never Were a Boy 30 

An American Boy's Lament 31 

A Mountain Town 33 

Cherry, Cheerup 35 

My Neighbor's Little Daughter 36 

The Ambrotype 37 

Hannah Dustin 38 

May 41 

The Bell and the Mouse 42 

Two Old Prints 43 

September 45 

Our Flag 46 

Our Well-Beloved 48 

Decoration Day 49 

Shadow and Sunshine 50 

Polly's Celebration 52 

The Sandman and Dreamlady _ 53 

Isn't It True? 54 

A Birthday Story 55 

The Trailing Arbutus 58 

Little Women 59 

"Paul" 60 

The Swallows 62 

The Children's Valentine 63 

Second Gift Song 64 

Turning Over a New Leaf 66 

My Little Daughters 67 

The Photograph 69 

The Little Maids 71 

An Easter Prayer 72, 

Two Little Soldiers 74 



CONTENTS. 

Our Red, White and Blue 76 

Baby Amee 77 

Three Little Folks 

Hortense 

Indian Pipe 

The Leaves 

Little Electa Catharine 

Mrs. Thompson's Story 

The Soldiers 

Wee Marie 

To the Old Pear Tree, Truro, Mass. 

Treasures 

Building 

A Boy's Heart 

Tomorrow 



78 
80 
81 
83 
84 
86 



90 
92 
93 
94 
95 



"POLIvY" AND OTHER POEMS. 



"POLLY." 

When the sun has vanished 
And the day has fled, 

When the leaves are silent, 
O'er the robins' bed, 
"Polly" climbs up on my knee. 
Tells her joys and griefs to me, 
Says she loves me "truly true," 
Kisses me and hugs me, too, 
Begs for stories old and new. 
As a four-year maid can do. 

When the stars are peeping 
At us from on high. 

In the dear "sky parlor," 
We go bye-low-bye. 
In the big white rocking chair 
With no thought of grief or care. 
While here and there and ev'ry where 
Flits mamma with her gold-brown hair, 
She kisses "Polly," icisses me, 
In the dear old nursery. 



"POLLY." 

When the wee maid's sleeping, 
In her little bed, 

Mamma's hand caressing 
"Polly's" golden head, 
Then we talk and try to plan, 
Best as our short vision can, 
For the sweet child, who in dreams 
Of the angels catches gleams ; 
Oh ! how long the days will be 
When she leaves the nursery. 

When earth's sun has vanished. 
And life's griefs have fled, 

When the light of heaven 
Shines on "Polly's" head. 
Should her locks be gold or gray 
When she enters endless day, 
May the All-Wise till that time 
Keep her heart a sunny clime, 
May He find it then to be 
True as in earth's nursery. 




"POLLY." 



A NURSERY STORY. 

'Tis true, every word of it true, 

For the nursery cat told me, 
How he'd watched a bird, a blue paper bird. 

Who sat in a green paper tree ; 
How he'd watched the bird from morn till night 

And was hungry as hungry could be. 

'Tis true, every word of it true, 

For the blue paper bird told me, 
How he'd watched a cat, a black cloth cat, 

Who sat at the foot of the tree ; 
How he'd watched the cat from morn till night 

And was afraid as afraid could be. 

'Tis true, every word of it true — 

For I dreamed in the nursery — 
'Till two little maids, two blue-eyed maids 

Came in and awakened me. 
And I never found out if the cat ate the bird 

Or the bird died of fright, you see. 



GRAY COAT AND BLUE EYES. 

"Jack Frost has helped me, I knew he would," 

Said a squirrel with coat of gray ; 
"He has opened the burrs, the little nuts' furs, 

In a most astonishing way." 

And while he talked a wonderful breeze, 

Scattered nuts on every side ; 
And he said, "Very soon, perhaps by noon, 

My winter's store I can safely hide." 

He worked away, this little Gray Coat, 

As happy as happy could be, 
Till he'd hid for his store a quart or more 

In a hole at the foot of a tree. 

He covered them up with leaves' of brown, 
When some children out nutting, too. 

Came bounding along with shout and with song, 
Swinging their baskets, bright and new. 



GRAY COAT AND BLUE EYES. 

And one little Blue Eyes found the nuts, 
Little Gray Coat had stored away, 

"And she took them all, the large and the 
small," 
I think I hear somebody say. 

Ah ! no, she didn't, she left them there. 
For my little Blue Eyes was good. 

Now which do you say out nutting that day. 
Was the happiest one in the wood? 



SCARLET PIMPERNEL. 

Dainty little flower, of a scarlet hue 

If the weather's clear, you smile up at the blue 

Of the sky above you, in a cheerful way, 

And your open blossoms mean a pleasant day. 

But if it is cloudy or you're sure of rain, 

Closed you keep your petals, coaxing is in vain ; 

You're a weather prophet, all may read who 

pass, 
And the people call you, "Poor man's weather 

glass." 



DORIS. 

Who lives at the cottage, the little stone cottage, 
Where hollyhocks bloom by the gate and the 
wall? 
Why Doris, sweet Doris, my little love Doris, 
Who meets me at eve when the whip-poor- 
wills call. 

Whip-poor-will ! Whip-poor-will ! then Doris is 
waiting 
By the old picket gate where the hollyhocks 
red. 
Have swayed to and fro so oft in the twilight 
And heard the dear words that my Doris hath 
said. 

And close by the window, the hollyhocks golden 
Reach up and look in at the maiden so fair ; 

And listen in silence to words sweet and humble 
That Doris says morning and evening in 
prayer. 

Low over the roof of the little stone cottage 
The maple boughs bend as if guarding from 
harm. 
And who is sweet Doris? Why, my wee daughter 
Doris, 
The treasure that gives to the cottage its 
charm. 



TWO LOCATIONS. 

Massachusetts. 

Growing by the roadside 

Along the old stone wall, 
Dainty blushes giving 

To the passers all. 
As I look upon you 

I hear the children say: 
"Aren't the Boston Beauties 

Beautiful to-day?" 

New Jersey. 

Then there comes a picture 

Of these flowers so fair. 
Growing by the wayside 

Without a bit of care. 
And some other children 

Who laughing say, "Now let's 
Go and get our arms full 

Of lovely Bouncing Bets." 



I 




"EMELINE." 



GREAT-GRANDMA'S CALACHE. 

Such a funny looking bonnet 
My great-grandma used to wear ; 

Not a bit of lace upon it, 
Nor a flower anywhere. 

There were reeds run round and round it, 

In the silk of soft leaf green; 
Till the bonnet represented 

Mountain ranges, vales between. 

It was lined with lavender 

Round her sweet young face ; 
Two long ribbons at the front 

Drew the canopy in place. 

When the sun shone warm and bright, 
These she fastened to her belt, 

Hidden then in silken barrel, 

This great-grandma's brown curls dwelt. 



GREAT-GRANDMA S CALACHE. 

Underneath her chin 'twas fastened 
In those days of long ago, 

By two strings of lustring ribbon, 
Which she fashioned in a bow, 

'Twas a wondrous silken bonnet, 
India silk, from distant land, 

And her mother did the making. 
Placed each stitch with loving hand. 

In her wee hair trunk I found it. 
With her Christian name and mine. 

In brass tacks upon the cover, 
Plainly printed — "Emeline," 

Oft I wish dear great grandmother, 
In calache and dainty gown. 

Would come back and tell us stories 
Of ye maids of Boston town. 

And to-day one of my treasures 
That I guard with greatest care. 

Is the funny-looking bonnet 

My great-grandma used to wear. 



lO 



A MOTHER'S LOVE. 

If all the honors the world can hold 
Were put on great scales in solid gold, 

Till the scales no more could bear; 
And if on the other side you place — 
That wondrous power and infinite grace — 

One mother's love and care. 

How would the two compare? 

Why! the greatest honors would be so small 
A mother's love would outweigh them all, 

The gold would be light as air. 
No song that a child's heart e'er can sing 
No tribute its hand can ever bring 

Can honor too much that gift so fair, 

A mother's love and care. 



II 



TED. 

He's the first one up in the morning, 

The one who would go last to bed; 
He is always in for a frolic, 

Cares naught for a bump on his head. 
He laughs when he pounds his fingers 

In coupling his "Toot-toot" cars 
And when his train stops at "Boston" 

Fills the room with his loud hurrahs. 

He hugs you and kisses you softly, 

If he's some little axe to grind ; 
As, mending his books or his boxes. 

Or helping his marbles to find. 
He's willful, he's good, and he's naughty, 

This laddie so full of his play; 
I love him, correct, and caress him, 

A dozen times each in a day. 



12 



rED. 



He pets you and calls you "a darling," 

Then begs for "just one story more;" 
When, perhaps, already you've told him, 

Only two or three less than a score. 
He's a dear little hypocrite always, 

For the last new friend is the best, 
And when he, is talking- to that one, 

He forgets about all of the rest. 

No doubt there are others just like him, 

In many a household to-day; 
Just as good, mischievous and naughty, 

As noisy at work or at play. 
Be patient, they all will grow older. 

The floor will be freed from all toys ; 
For order will reign, yes, and quiet. 

But, oh, how we'll miss the wee boys. 



13 



AT EVENTIDE. 

Come Polly and Lo, 

To sleep you must go, 
For the fire fly's lighted his lamp; 

The lady moon, too, 

Is smiling at you, 
And dew makes the clover-tops damp. 

The katydids sing, 

The bat's on the wing, 
The crickets chirp softly and low; 

And down in the bog, 

Some lazy old frog. 
Is croaking his song, I know. 

So hurry to bed, 

Let each curly head 
Nestle down in the pillow so white ; 

The angels will keep 

Sweet watch while you sleep. 
And Nature'll sing softly, good night. 



14 




'LO." 



A NURSERY OUTING. 

Up and down, up and down, 

Polly and Lo, 
In the old arm chair 

To Boston go. 

With arms round my neck, 
And cheeks close to mine, 

Shouting and laughing, 
''We'll be there by nine." 

We play the old chair 

Is really a boat, 
And we rock very fast 

When Point Judith we note. 

At old Narragansett 
We stop on the pier. 

And we laugh in the sunshine. 
For the day's very clear. 

And then just to Newport 

We go for a while, 
"Such a beautiful outing" 

We say with a smile. 



15 



A NURSERY OUTING. 

The chair then becomes 

The fastest of cars, 
And the nursery's filled 

With our shouts and hurrahs. 

We hurry past Taunton 

And Quincy and so 
Up and down, up and down. 

To Boston go. 



i6 



CRADLE SONG. 

Hush thee, my darUng, 
To sleep you must go ; 

As you journey to Nodland, 
I'll sing to thee so. 

First, Hush-a-bye station, 

Next, Bye-low town ; 
The sandman throws cinders 

Till eyehds go down. 
When the city of Slumber 

Is reached at last, 
The journey to Nodland 

In safety's passed. 

Hush thee, my darling. 
As older you grow, 

As to Nodland you journey, 
You'll think the song so. 

17 



CRADLE SONG. 

Pretty Hush-a-bye station, 

Is Wakeful town; 
The sandman has vanished 
. And Bye-low's burned down. 
A near town of Dreaming 

You'll find on the way 
To reflect all your worries 

And cares of the day. 

Hush thee, my darling. 
To sleep you must go ; 

For sleep we call Nodland, 
Although you don't know. 



OUR NATURE. 

I know a darling little boy, 

Whose eyes are black as night ; 
He is sometimes very good, 

And he's often very bright. 
Once I asked him, why so naughty, 

Why so oft he made me sad? 
He tearfully made answer, 

" 'Tis my nature to be bad." 
Then we talked the trouble over 

Till the sunshine came again. 
And he promised to do better, 

And I softly said, "Amen." 
Then I wondered if the Father 

Who watches o'er us all, 
And sees how oft we're fainting, 

How we stumble oft, and fall ; 
Does not, if we struggle onward, 

Send us then a ray of light. 
If we pray for help and guidance, 

To pursue again the right. 
As we forgive the children 

He forgives us, and is glad ; 
For he knows how very often 

'Tis our nature to be bad. 



19 



MARCH. 



The naughtiest son of old Father Time 
Is here again. His condition is prime ! 
Of course, you know him, the rohcking elf, 
Who cares for no one, not even himself; 
He blusters and howls, and flurries about, 
Until in your mind there isn't a doubt 
But that he is spoiled, as some children are, 
The very worst one of Time's dozen by far. 
His stay is always just thirty-one days — 
Ere his visit is over we're up to his ways ; 
He's "meek as a lamb," and sometimes as still, 
But when he's the "lion" he roars with a will. 
I asked him, one morn, why to earth he was 

sent, 
Pertly he answered, "To amuse you in Lent." 
Oh, March, you're so naughty, it must be why 
April's so sorry and given to cry; 
Yet, who from their lives would spare you each 

year? — 
Not I for one — without many a tear; 
So while we talk of your very rude ways. 
We invite you next year for thirty-one days. 



20 



LITTLE THINGS. 

If a word some one has spoken, 

Cheered you just one little day. 
Pass the sunshine on to others, 

Whom you meet upon Life's way. 
It may help to lift the burden 

Of some one in sore distress ; 
How much good may be accomplished 

By a word, we cannot guess. 

If a smile your heart has gladdened, 

When dark clouds obscured your sky, 
Pass the sunshine on to others ; 

You can do it if you try. 
It may be your smile will brighten 

Some one's life with sadness filled, 
When the sunshine lights a pathway ; 

Then the troubled waves are stilled. 



21 



LITTLE THINGS. 

If a little act of kindness 

Gave you courage, when you thought 
All the world was cold and selfish. 

Live the lesson that it taught. 
Give a helpful hand to others, 

As you needed, they may need. 
Every life is made the better 

By a generous, kindly deed. 

'Tis the little things that daily 

Make our lives a joy or woe; 
Do the little things, then, bravely, 

Fill the minutes, ere they go, 
With a smile, or word of comfort, 

Or a kindly act, though small, 
'Tis the little things that really 

Are the greatest, after all. 



22 




MONARCH AND SUBJECT. 



MONARCH AND SUBJECT. 

In our glorious Land of Freedom, 

Yet doth monarchy hold sway; 
And the stoutest-hearted patriot 

Oft the quickest will obey 
Every wish of tyrant monarch — 

Ruling strong as iron bar — 
Who is the monarch? A wee grand-child. 

And the subject? Grandpapa. 



23 



THE NEW YEAR. 

He is waiting to enter, the infant New Year. 

Are we ready to meet him, to welcome with 
cheer? 

Are our thoughts for the old, who is dying to- 
day. 

Or for the New Year, with his bright, winsome 
way? 

Will the book that he carries, so spotlessly white. 

Be dingy and black, as the Old Year's to-night? 

Shall we make new resolves to please him, and 
then 

Shed tears at his dying, that they're broken 
again? 

Let us kneel by the side of the Old Year to-night 
And pray to fill better the new book so white, 
By doing the tasks that come day by day, 
And helping the weak, whom we meet on the 

way. 
His book will be whitest whose heart is kept 

true — 
Whether here he's called Christian or Pagan or 

Jew — 
To the best that is in him, and surely he'll hear 
In his heart always ringing a Happy New Year. 



24 



THE WHITE CHRYSANTHEMUM. 

In giving flowers a language, 

When the earth was in its youth. 
They gave the white chrysanthemum 

The beautiful meaning — truth. 
When all other flowers have vanished, 

Then it stands forth pure and bright ; 
So truth stands firm when all else fades, 

For you cannot hide its light. 



25 



SOUVENIRS. 

A book, some withered flowers, 

Old coins, and china fine ; 
And many little trinkets 

Of quaint or rare design. 
These, Dorothy brought home with her 

From lands across the sea, 
"As souvenirs," she gayly said, 

With girhsh pride and glee. 

And each one had a story. 

The flowers were worn in France ; 
The book was read one rainy day 

In a vine-clad English manse. 
And Dorothy seated on the rug 

Related all to me, 
Until I thought I, too, had been 

In lands across the sea. 



26 



SOUVENIRS, 

Then, as we sat in silence 

In the cheerful grate fire's glow, 
My thoughts went wandering backward 

To the days of long ago, 
Till Dorothy said, softly, 

"Now tell me, Auntie, dear, 
Which one of all your keepsakes 

Is your choicest souvenir." 

"My choicest keepsake, darling, 

Is the memory of a voice 
And a smile whose very sweetness 

Would make your heart rejoice. 
And, Dorothy, when this life is o'er, 

That voice and smile shall be 
My music and my sunshine 

Throughout eternity." 

Then Dorothy slowly put away 

Her treasures, one by one ; 
And on the top the flowers laid, 

Once golden as the sun. 
She came and whispered softly, 

"Good night, sweet dreams, my dear,' 
And left me in the firelight 

With memory's souvenir. 



27 



THE CICHORIUM INTYBUS. 

Art thou searching after knowledge 

That thou cometh ev'ry year, 
With thy bright blue flowers flaunting 

In old Harvard's atmosphere? 

Art thou trying to be learned? 

Art thou holding summer school? 
Now the buildings all are empty, 

Wilt thou break a single rule? 

Didst thou know it? Thou art charming, 

From some oriental clime ; 
Creep up closer to each building. 

Notice thou shalt gain in time. 

Yes, I love thee, little flower. 
Come with each returning year ; 

Flaunt thy blue heads every summer 
In old Harvard's atmosphere. 



28 



OCTOBER. 

Crisp the air, the days grow shorter, 

Leaves are turning brown and red ; 
In the orchard rosy apples 

Hang above the head. 
Bittersweet and blue closed gentian, 

Make the woods and meadows bright; 
Nuts are almost ripe for gathering. 

To a boy's delight. 
So we welcome thee, October — 

Oft our hearts thou hast beguiled 
With thy gay and saucy manner — 

Nature's gypsy child. 



29 



THEN YOU NEVER WERE A BOY. 

Did you ever think of sailing 

On a fleecy cloud away; 
To a land where work's forbidden 

And there's naught to do but play? 
Did you ever drum and whistle, 

And keep time with your feet ; 
And think of all earth's music 

No other quite so sweet? 
Did you ever want to "stay up" 

When 'twas time to go to bed? 
Did you ever fill your pockets 

With stones, and sticks, and lead. 
And tacks, and nails, and marbles, 

And strings, and bits of glass? 
To find that in the morning 

Every one was gone, alas ! 
Did you ever have grown people 

Saying to you, don't and don't ; 
And don't, and don't, and don't, and don't, 

And don't, and don't, and don't? 
Were you ever sent an errand 

With a message you must say. 
To find 'twas strangely altered 

Or forgotten on the way? 
Did you never have these pleasures 

Or these sorrows to annoy ; 
With a multitude of others? 

Then you never were a boy. 



30 




'Then you never were a boy." 



AN AMERICAN BOY'S LAMENT. 

I'm really tired of living' 

In this slow and easy way, 
When the newest thing invented 

Gets quite old within a day. 
And our fastest modes of traveling 

Are indeed so very slow, 
Why, sixty miles a minute 

Is as fast as we can go. 

Oil, the good times all are coming, 

But I won't be here to see 
The air-ship's steady sailing 

Through the sky so rapidly. 
When the Polar sea's discovered, 

Then every one will say : 
"How very stupid people were 

In dear old grandpa's day." 



31 



AN AMERICAN BOY S LAMENT. 

Now, the science men who study 

All about the stars and sky, 
Say this planet that we live on 

Will some time be very dry. 
Others say it will be deluged 

And the people will be drowned; 
Now I'd like to be the last one 

At those times to be around. 

Oh, we need some new inventions, 

'Lectric wings or magic slate, 
Or something real amusing 

For a boy to investigate. 
Now I'm really very anxious 

To find something new to see; 
What a pity I'm not living 

In some later centurv. 



32 



A MOUNTAIN TOWN. 
(Wales, Mass.) 

I know a pretty mountain town, 
Where sunshine loves to stay, 

And with the leaves play hide and seek. 
The livelong summer day. 

Upon the surface of its lake 

The white pond lilies rest, 
And near the shore, in gorgeous robes. 

The cardinal flow'r's dressed. 

A fountain, fed by living springs, 
Far up the mountain's side. 

Stands where roads cross, and in it does 
This mountain town take pride. 

Ten miles away, the iron horse 

Goes speeding on its way ; 
You take the stage and onward ride, 

Until at close of day — 



33 



A MOUNTAIN TOWN. 

Just as the sun is sinking low, 
And bidding earth good-night — 

The church spires of this mountain town 
Come slowly into sight. 

And in the distance, mountains rise — 
Mt. Pizgah, Hitchcock, too ; 

Two thousand feet above the sea! 
You breathe, and know 'tis true. 

And in your heart give thanks to God 
For this pretty mountain town, 

Where nature is so bright and gay 
You cannot wear a frown. 



34 



CHERRY, CHEERUP. 

Robin, robin redbreast, 
Tell me do you know, 
Robin, robin redbreast 
Where the cherries grow? 
Yes you do, you know you do, 
Between the leaves you're peeping through 
As you watch and sing to me 
In my neighbor's cherry tree. 

"Cherry, cherry cheerup," 
Polly calls you that ; 
Cherry, cherry cheerup, 
Polly has a cat. 
Polly says your bib's "all yed," 
"Stole the cherries" so she said. 
But you do not seem to care, 
Sitting in the tree top there. 

Robin, robin redbreast, 
Sing your song to me, 
"Cherry, cherry cheerup," 
From the cherry tree. 
Cherries on the topmost bough 
Are for robins anyhow ; 
So sit and sing and eat away, 
Your song is all that's asked in pay. 



35 



MY NEIGHBOR'S LITTLE DAUGHTER. 

Should you ask me where there's sunshine 

On a dark and cloudy day, 
I should tell you, down the street, 

Such a very little way : 
Go one block this way, one block that, 

You cannot miss the place, 
For my neighbor's little daughter 

With a sweetly winning grace, 
Will welcome you and greet you — 

A truly sunshine queen — 
So I call her "Little Sunshine," 

Though her name is Ernestine. 

And I think if all the children — 

We grown-up children, too — 
Should be thoughtful of each other, 

What a lot of good we'd do. 
We could fill the world with sunshine 

If we each but did our part, 
Like my neighbor's httle daughter, 

With the sunshine of the heart. 



36 




THE' AMBROTYPE. 



THE AMBROTYPE. 

Some very, very rainy day, 

When there isn't much to do, 
If grandma wih get her treasures 

And wiU let you look them through, 
You may find, perchance, a picture. 

Something like this laddie's here, 
And grandma will tell you sweetly, 

"That's an ambrotype, my dear." 
She will also say, '"Twas taken 

Nearly forty years ago. 
About the time the war broke out, 

The Civil War, you know ; 
Then, photographs we did not have. 

But these pictures made on glass. 
That were put in little cases. 

With a dainty clasp of brass." 
And she'll tell you that her laddie 

Was patriotic, too ; 
He used to make great soldier caps. 

Just as little boys now do ! 
And when you close the ambrotype. 

And hand it back again, 
She'll tell you, "Patriotic boys 

Make patriotic men." 



37 



HANNAH DUSTIN. 
March, 1697. 

In and out, now smooth, now rapid 

In its onward way ; 
Hurrying in its course to seaward 

Flows the Merrimac to-day. 

Flows and sings as o'er two hundred 

Years ago it sang; 
When the upland and the lowland 

With the Indian war whoop rang. 

Sings and sighs and tells the story 

How a woman brave, 
Hannah Dustin, killed her captors, 

That she might her own life save. 

'Twas at Haverhill the Indians 

Took her from her bed, 
Burned her home and slew her baby, 

Left it on the wayside, dead. 



38 



HANNAH DUSTIN. 

Took with them her nurse and others 

They had captured there, 
Miles they marched with scanty clothing, 

Through the snow and frosty air. 

One by one, the captured faltered 

On their weary way, 
Tomahawked and scalped and lifeless 

They were left ere break of day. 

And but three of all the number 

Reached that little isle, 
Where the Contoocook, advancing, 

Greets the Merrimac with a smile. 

Then it was that Hannah Dustin, 

Planned her life to save, 
And her nurse's, with assistance 

That a captive white lad gave. 

They had learned that on the morrow 

Ere the set of sun, 
At a distant Indian village, 

They the gauntlet had to run. 



39 



HANNAH DUSTIN. 

So at daybreak with great caution 

Stealthily they crept 
To the place where, all unthinking, 

Twelve unguarded Indians slept. 

And with Indian hatchets quickly 
Killed them all but two — 

A squaw and favorite boy escaping — 
Then scuttled all but one canoe. 



With the guns and scalps and hatchets 

Proceeded then the three 
In the one canoe remaining 

To their homes in Haverhill — free. 



In and out, now smooth, now rapid 

In its onward way ; 
Past the spot where stood the wigwams 

Flows the Merrimac to-day. 

Flows and sings the whole sad story 

Very soft and low, 
That upon its banks it witnessed 

O'er two hundred years ago. 



40 



MAY. 

Bring flowers bright to crown to-day, 

The winsome, bonny month of May. 

Hepatica, of dainty blue 

Anemone, spring beauties, too, 

And dandehons, wee stars so bright 

That lost their way from heaven one night. 

Then wild geranium, violets yellow. 

And Jack in the Pulpit, saucy fellow. 

Next intertwine throughout the crown. 

The prettiest shades of green in town ; 

And as the choicest gem of all, 

Bring that sweet blushing flower so small, 

The fairest one that ever grew. 

Trailing the mossy woodland through. 

Arbutus, Mayflower, as you will. 

Of May 'tis emblematic still. 

For May's the dearest, fairest child 

On which old Father Time e'er smiled. 

1 hen crown her queen of the year to-day 

The winsome bonny month of May. 



41 



THE BELL AND THE MOUSE. 

Once on a time — oh, sad to tell — 
A mousie ate up my "Liberty Bell ;" 
'Twas made of silk of a golden hue 
Yet mousie cared not, for what did he do 
But nibble a hole in the side of my bell 
Once on a time — oh, sad to tell. 

Once on a time, 'tis true, quite true, 

I made me a bell of a golden hue 

And filled it with seeds from a melon sweet, 

So the mousie found out and called it a treat 

And he ate it all up before I knew ; 

Once on a time, 'tis true, quite true. 

Once on a time, oh, sad to say, 
I caught the mousie with coat of gray 
And he lost his liberty, sad to tell. 
Because he ate up my Liberty Bell. 
And the mousie died one autumn day, 
Once on a time, oh, sad to say. 



42 




The Bostonians Paying The Excise-Man,^ Or Tarynng Aiid Feathering 



TWO OLD PRINTS. 

Two queer old prints once used to hang 
In my grandfather's wide old hall, 

In mahogany frames, by worsted cords, 
On the side of the western wall. 

"Bostonians paying the exciseman," 
Was the one with the "Liberty Tree," 

While the exciseman, all feathers and tar. 
Was begging for liberty ! 

A rope round his neck, a noose overhead. 
Showed hanging might be a fact ; 

On the trunk of the tree, placed upside down 
A sign bore the words "Stamp Act." 

And tne exciseman they drenched with tea — 
Did these good men of Boston town — 

Till the grin on their faces would lead you to 
think 
Each one was a circus clown. 



43 



TWO OLD PRINTS. 

In the background a ship and men in disguise, 

Who into the waters so bkie, 
Were swiftly unloading the chests of tea, 

Three hundred and forty-two. 

There stood on a hill, in the other old print, 
A gibbet, with rope dangling there. 

And the customhouse officer feathered and 
tarred 
In an attitude of prayer. 

While with pot of tea and a good strong club 

On either side stood a man ; 
And under the picture in lettering quaint 

This notable legend ran : — 

"For the custom house officer's landing the tea 

They tarred him and feathered him, just as you see; 

And they drench'd him so well, both behind and be- 
fore, 

That he begged for God's sake they would drench, 
him no more." 

Oh, wonderful stories these old prints held, 
Which we heard 'round grandfather's knee. 

Of the men and women of 'seventy-six. 
Their hardships and bravery. 



44 




Copied Ai^iLsUt Luriaer 



A New Method Of MararK>nij FAakinq as Pr'aciused ai Boston 



SEPTEMBER. 

The dainty sweet clover looks tired and sleepy. 

The daisy has rumpled its white velvet gown ; 

The golden rod's flaunting its plume in the 

meadow, 

The blue and white asters are seeking renown. 

On the salt marshes, the pretty marshmallow 

Is dressed in its pink silk as if for a ball, 
While o'er it like lovers, so gracefully bending, 
Are the flags and the grasses so stately and 
tall. 
The children are home from their long summer 
outing. 
With cheeks all aglow and eyes sparkling 
bright. 
Of school days they talk, while their merry 
sweet laughter 
Again fills our hearts with life's early delight. 
Less ardent to-day is the sun in its wooing — 
And earth seems to care not his love to re- 
member — 
The flowers and children, the cool nights and 
mornings 
Are surely proclaiming that this is September. 



45 



OUR FLAG. 

Float our bright banner free to the breeze, 
Always proclaiming lessons like these : 
Freedom and unity, courage and strength, 
Devotion to right throughout the whole length 

Of our glorious land. 
What heart is not proud of our beautiful flag! 
Who can see the broad stripes of the red and 

the white 
Without thought of the patriots, brave men and 

true 
Who fought for our country, that right and 

not might 

In the new world should stand 
As our aim. 

We who for this principle also shall fight 
Their kinship may claim ; 
Who notes the white stars on the field of deep 

blue 
Without inspiration to be loyal and true 
To all that shall keep our fair land the best, 
From ocean to ocean, united and blest. 



46 



OUR FLAG. 

Then unfurl our loved Red, White and Blue, 
Brave battles have under these colors been 

fought 
And the Stars and the Stripes grand lessons 
have taught 
And will teach them anew. 



47 



OUR WELL-BELOVED. 
(William McKinley, September 14, 1901.) 

We dwell on his statesmanship with pride. 
We love, of his life, its Christ-like side. 

His trusting faith in the All- Wise One, 
*'It is God's way; His will be done." 
His loving care of his faithful wife, 
Ev'ry day of a busy life ; 
His thoughtful word for the deadly foe, 
"Let no one harm him." Aye, we know 
He must have sat at the Master's feet. 
To speak forgiveness so complete. 
"Nearer, my God, to Thee," his prayer, 
"E'en though it be a cross" to bear. 
Comforting words for the faithful heart 
Who knew the hour had come to part. 
The "Good-bye, all," at life's ebbing tide, 
A message to our Nation wide ; 
No one forgotten — his great heart knew 
The grief his people must pass through. 
With sorrowing hearts we kneel and pray, 
"God's will be done, not ours," alway. 

We dwell on his statesmanship with pride, 
We love, of his life, its Christ-like side. 



48 



DECORATION DAY. 

Gather garlands bright to scatter 

To-day with loving hand 
O'er the graves of our brave soldiers, 

Those who fought to save the land. 
Place the fiag they loved and cherished 

On each lowly bed — 
For their country's sake they perished — 

They, our brave and honored dead. 

Tramping and marching 

Now for them is o'er ; 
They have gained the land of promise 

Where peace reigns forevermore. 

"Boys in blue" of the rebellion 

Are scattered far or dead ; 
But remember all they suffered 

And in reverence bow the head. 
Think to-day of our fair country 

As each flower we bring, 
While in all our hearts in chorus 

We "America" will sing. 

Tramping and marching 

Now for all is o'er, ' 
And throughout our Land of Freedom 

We're united evermore. 



49 



SHADOW AND SUNSHINE. 

All day things had gone wrong you know 

As they will sometimes do ; 
There seemed no sunshine in the world 

Although the sky was blue, 
And thus it chanced that bitter thoughts 

And I, at close of day, 
Were close companions, as I walked 

Along the homeward way. 

What is life worth? not much I thought — 

When stepping up to me 
A friend said in a laughing way 

Some little pleasantry. 
The sky looked brighter, next I met 

A bonny brown eyed child, 
Who took my hand and softly said : — 

"I love you dear," and smiled. 



50 




" 'I love you, dear,' and smiled." 



SHADOW AND SUNSHINE. 

And when at home the sweetest voice 

On earth to me did say : — 
"I am so glad that you have come 

I've missed you so to-day." 
The sun came out, and bitter thoughts 

Took wings and swiftly fled, 
And then in deep contrition 

Unto myself I said : — 

"I will not let them come again 

When things go wrong, I'll try 
To think the sunshine's waiting 

To cheer me by and by ; 
Then I can borrow in advance 

And so perchance I may 
Dispel the clouds as they arise. 

When things go wrong some day." 

What is life worth? again I thought 

While gladness filled my heart, 
'Tis surely worth the living 

If we but do our part. 
Then pass along the kindly thought 

That helped you in your need ; 
And make the world all sunshine 

With humanity your creed. 



51 



POLLY'S CELEBRATION. 

"I's doin' to have a birfday," 
■ Said Polly, wee and shy; 
Whose hair was golden thistle down, 

Whose eyes matched the blue sky. 
"I's four years old to-morrow-day," 

She said with long drawn sigh, 
And I replied, "How very old 

You will be by and by." 

The morrow came and little guests, 

With happy childish glee. 
When, lo, behold ! the Stars and Stripes 

From flagstaff floating free. 
"Why, what is this," her mamma asked; 

She answered : "Tant 'oo see. 
They put flags up for Washington, 

I's dot it up for me." 



52 



THE SANDMAN AND DREAMLADY. 

Rock-a-bye ! Hush-a-bye ! Sandman is coming. 

With a whole load of Shut-eye town sand; 
Hereabout, thereabout, soon he will throw it 

At the wee folks on every hand. 
Rock-a-bye, Alta ! Hush-a-bye, Katherine ! 

Close your bright eyes so they cannot be seen, 
Then the old Sandman will haste on his journey 

Taking his car load of sand, I ween. 

Rock-a-bye ! Hush-a-bye ! Dreamlady's coming, 

With her arms full of Drowsy Town toys ; 
Hereabout, thereabout, she will distribute 

Fast as she can to wee girls and boys. 
Rock-a-bye, Alta ! Hush-a-bye, Katherine ! 

Close your eyes quick or you won't get your 
share, 
For the Dreamlady must haste o'er the country, 

Little folks wait for her ev'rywhere. 

Rock-a-bye ! Hush-a-bye ! Sandman is going, 

Dreamlady's here, for eyes are shut tight; 
Hereabout, thereabout, bright stars are shining, 

Mother will guard you all through the night. 
Rock-a-bye, Alta ! Hush-a-bye, Katherine ! 

The Ladymoon laughs, the Sandman is sad, 
Hush-a-bye, sleep, and smile at your treasures 

Then you will make the Dreamlady glad. 



53 



ISN'T IT TRUE? 

Is it not truCj dear. 

Black skies seem blue, dear, 

When we are happy and glad? 
Blue skies seem gray, dear, 
Dark is the day, dear, 

When we're unhappy and sad. 

Strange, but we know, dear. 
The flow'rs that grow, dear, 

Out in the sunshine so bright ; 
Are not so sweet, dear. 
As those we greet, dear. 

That know both shadow and light. 

So the All-Wise, dear. 
Never denies, dear, 

That which is best for our good ; 
Blue skies and gray, dear, 
Helped in their way, dear, 

The flowers grow sweet in the wood. 



54 




•EDWARD." 



A BIRTHDAY STORY. 

There once was a boy whom I knew, 

That much of this story is true ; 
His eyes they were brown and he Hved in a town 
Where the Hackensack river goes winding 
down, 

In its every day walk to the sea ; 

And all this is as true as can be. 

Now this little boy you must know. 

Was a real little boy, and so 
I shall have to say, he could work and could 

play, 
And once every year he had a birthday. 

Till at last he was seven years old ; 

Which is seven times one I am told. 

And what do you think happened then? 

Why, some lassies and little men 
Were invited to tea as polite as could be, 
And they came and they played and they laughed* 
with glee, 

Just as nice little girls and boys do ; 

Ev'ry word that I've told you is true. 



55 



A BIRTHDAY STORY. 

But by and by nine o'clock came, 
The little ones stopped every game, 
And with eyes shining bright, they all said "good 

night," 
And this I am sure you'll concede was quite 
right, 
For nine o'clock's late, I know you will say. 
Though Edward was seven that day. 



Now this part I'm not sure is true. 

But I think it quite likely, don't you? 
When he closed his brown eyes, to sleep, as 

was wise, 
The hobgoblin folks held in store a surprise. 

Strange enough to make any boy scream, 

But perhaps it was only a dream. 



What he saw I think I can guess, 
A "nightmare !" for I must confess 
Once when I was small, the bad hobgoblins all. 
Sent one to my room, which it used as a stall, 
And I fed it on sandwich and cake. 
But, dear me, how my poor head did ache. 



56 



A BIRTHDAY STORY. 

There once was a boy whom I knew — 
That much of this story is true — 
And the moral is clear, the "nig-htmare" will 

appear 
If you eat late at night, cake and sandwich, my 
dear, 
So be careful and maybe some day 
Hobgoblins will feed it on hay. 



57 



THE TRAILING ARBUTUS. 

'Tis a lowly flower, growing 

So close to mother earth ; 
Unless you stoop to gather it, 

You know not half its worth. 
As brave as were the Puritans 

To face the wintry blast, 
It ventures forth in early spring 

While yet the sky's o'ercast. 

'Twas to it the flower angel 

Whispered something in the glade ; 
It has ever since been blushing, 

So like a pretty maid. 
Under leaves it hides its blossoms, 

This "beauty of the wood ;" 
That is what the angel whispered, 

And Arbutus understood. 

Of all the early spring flowers, 

Oh, give me just this one, 
That dares to breathe of Summer, 

Ere yet the winter's done ; 
That bids us all be hopeful, 

E'en in the chilly air ; 
For oft the darkest day in life 

May hold some treasure rare. 



58 



LITTLE WOMEN. 

Long ago we read the story 
That the children love to-day ; 

'Twas about four little women, 
All of whom have passed away. 

How our eyes grew dim with weeping, 
As we read about the death 

Of the patient little woman 

Whom we children knew as "Beth." 

Then the petted winsome "Amy/' 

Fell asleep across the sea, 
And again we read the story, 

Though no longer children we. 

Next, the one who made us love them, 
Crossed the river deep, to know 

All the mysteries surrounding 

Life and Death, our darling "Jo." 

Now the last, the eldest sister, 
"Meg" has joined them where 

Naught shall part the "little women" 
In that life so bright and fair. 

Dead — yet living here among us. 
In the hearts of young and old. 

Are the four real little women. 
Of which that story told. 



59 



"PAUL." 

I was busy at the office. 

Work piled up on every side ; 
Letters by the score to answer, 

Patience more than sorely tried ; 
Notices to be "blue-penciled," 

Proofs to read, receipts to send, 
Mailing list to be corrected, 

Till it seemed work ne'er would end. 

And outside, for once, the weather 

Was in tune with inside gloom ; 
Heavy clouds since early morning 

Let no sunshine in the room. 
From my window, office buildings 

Towered high on every side. 
And across the bridge to Brooklyn, 

Passed a ceaseless human tide. 

Passed the people back and forward. 

As the sea tides ebb and flow. 
And the pulse of two great cities 

Throbbed in silent joy or woe, 
Like a broad and silver ribbon 

Moved the river on its way, 
And the highlands in the distance 

Looked like clouds of bluish gray. 



60 




"PAUL. 



"PAUL." 

But a moment's thought was given 

To the moving outside world, 
I was busy at the office 

On my desk, with sails unfurled. 
Lay the letters waiting answers, 

When I spied, addressed to me, 
A wee package which I opened — 

A sweet, boyish face to see. 

Not a card to say who sent it, 

Not a word to tell his name. 
Only just a distant postmark. 

Simply telling whence it came. 
So I placed the photo' near me, 

And I called the laddie "Paul," 
For it seemed the name best suited 

To the sweet face, after all. 

Strange the office work grew lighter 

And the room seemed brighter, too, 

And success crowned every effort 

Of my work the whole day through. 
* * * * 

On my desk I keep the photo', 
When the skies are blue or gray. 

For I think that "Paul," in coming. 
Brought success to me that day. 



6i 



THE SWALLOWS. 

Swallows, swallows, playing tag, 

As they homeward fly. 
Sometimes here and sometimes there, 

In the ev'ning sky. 
Till the clouds up overhead. 

As they watch their play, 
Think they'll try the merry game. 

As they float away. 

When the sun has said "good night/' 

Home the swallows go, 
To their nests among the eaves 

In the barn, you know. 
There they rest till morning comes, 

Then they fly away ; 
\v^orking hard until the time 

Comes again for play. 



62 



THE CHILDREN'S VALENTINE. 

Into a primary class one day 

A picture of Cupid found its way ; 

The elf was dressed in a pair of wings; 

He carried the darts he always flings, 

Of course, on the shore a maiden walks 

And Cupid, the darling, stops and talks. 

"Cupid's Vacation," the picture fine, 

The children called it "Our valentine." 

And they talked about the light and shade. 

The many lines in the picture made ; 

They were told that Cupid had much to do 

In making valentine's old or new. 

"To shoot," they said, the arrows were for, 

Which Cupid carried along the shore ; 

"And what will he shoot?" were the giver's 

words ; 
The innocent children answered "Birds." 
No doubt they were right, for, after all. 
We're much like birds, though not so small ; 
And in after years they all will know 
Why he carries his quiver and bow. 
The happy hearts of those children gay 
Will long remember that Valentine's Day. 



63 



SECOND GIFT SONG. 

A cube is here, a cube is here, 
And close beside it is a sphere, 
A cube is here, a cube is here^, 
A cyHnder is near. 
A cube can stand, a sphere can too, 
A cylinder, what can it do? 
Oh, that we very soon will show. 
And then you all will know. 

A cylinder can roll along. 
And as it rolls it sings a song; 
A cylinder can roll along, 
And sing a pretty song. 
Its faces, two, are circles round, 
And it can stand upon the ground, 
But only careless girls and boys 
Will let it make a noise. 

Oh, Mr. Cube has faces six, 
What would you do in such a fix? 
Oh, Mr. Cube has faces six, 
But he must play no tricks. 
His faces squares, his corners eight, 
His edges twelve and all so straight, 
Oh, Mr. Cube we all must know 
Before we older grow. 



64 



SECOND GIFT SONG. 

The sphere it is a Httle ball, 
And children must not let it fall, 
The sphere it is a little ball, 
Oh, do not let it fall. 
For it would roll so far away 
You could with it no longer play- 
So do not lose a merry game 
And gain a careless name. 



65 



TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF. 

December 31. 
"Ah, my son, you cause me sorrow 

And I fear you'll come to grief ; 
Now begin by turning over 

On the morrow a new leaf." 
Thus a father closed a lecture 

To his little son of eight ; 
Hoping that for some improvement, 

Long he would not have to wait. 

January i. 
Bright and early ere 'twas daylight 

'Rose the lad (to come to grief), 
And on all his father's orchids 

He turned over each new leaf. 
Soon upon the scene of action 

Came the father very — sad ; 
'Twas this time not moral suasion 

That he tried upon the lad. 

January 2. 
Now the lad is thinking sadly, 

As he views each broken leaf; 
If I follow father's sayings, 

I shall surely come to grief. 
"When I am a man," he whispers, 

And he draws himself up grand ; 
"I will talk so very plainly 

Any boy can understand." 



66 



MY LITTLE DAUGHTERS. 

Would you know my little daughters, 
Should you meet them on the street? 

They wear calf-skin shoes like "papa's," 
On their dainty little feet. 

Do you think their shoes are clumsy, 
With the heels so broad and low? 

With the sole so flat and heavy, 
Scotch edge and a square-cut toe? 

Shall I tell you all about them? 

How they sensibly are dressed? • 
How their hats are trimmed with ribbon. 

Not with bird, nor wing, nor breast? 

All their dresses are of flannel, 

And they're made to please their tastes, 

But you'll never find a corset 

Cramping small their girlish waists. 

Did I hear you say "old fashioned?" 

No one ever called them so ; 
They are straight and strong and healthy; 

Quite new-fashioned now, I know. 



67 



MY LITTLE DAUGHTERS. 

How I wish that all the people 

Would so dress their girls for health. 

That our country in the future 
In their women would find wealth. 

Wealth of mind and health of body, 
Strength to bear with care and strife ; 

Strength in turn to teach their children 
How to live a true, brave life. 



68 




"Nay, you cannot keep your anger.' 



THE PHOTOGRAPH. 

Why, my little man, so sullen? 

Why so shy, my little maid? 
Just that way the artist caught you 

With the light and shade. 

Yes, of course, you had a quarrel ! 

All about some little thing — 
'Tis the trivial things that often 
Leave the deepest sting. 

There, make up, my lad, be merry, 
For the maid with eyes of blue ; 

With her hand upon your elbow, 
Shyly looks at you. 

Nay, you cannot keep your anger, 
Hear what I am saying now, 

Make sweet peace and let the making 
Straighten out your brow. 

Let the sunshine light your faces 
You may call it just a smile ; 

Frowns are never nice to look at 
Even a little while. 



69 



THE PHOTOGRAPH. 

And I think if grown up children 
Had some artist waiting near, 

Who Vv'ould catch their frowning faces, 
Frowns would disappear. 

It is only just a picture 
Of a lad and shy wee maid 

Whom an artist caught in tableau 
With the lis:ht and shade. 



70 



THE LITTLE MAIDS. 

Once on a time five little folks lived 

In houses all in a row ; 
"Baby" and "Dottie" and "Florence" and 
"Bess" 

'And "Nellie" their names you know. 
I knew them all in babyhood dress 

When they said "Ah goo ! ah go !" 
And whenever I couldn't understand 

I agreed that it was so. 

These five little folks, with language strange, 

Grew a dimpled winsome band 
Of little maidens, who learned to talk 

So we all could understand. 
Five happy households their sunshine filled — 

Who knows what the parents planned — 
But one grew restless and wandered away 

To the brighter, better land. 



71 



THE LITTLE MAIDS. 

Years have been hurrying on since then, 

For not very long ago, 
I passed four misses with womanly ways, 

Whom It seemed I ought to know. 
"Baby" and "Dottie" and "Florence" and 
"Bess," 

Ah, how the little folks grow — 
I musingly thought of the fifth little maid. 

As they spoke in accents low. 

Only the names were the same to me. 

For Time had taken away 
As surely the four little maids I knew, 

As the angel one summer's day 
Had borne the soul of the little mate 

With whom they were wont to play. 
What's Life but Death, I thought and then 

What's Death but Life alway? 



72 



AN EASTER PRAYER. 

Give us but strength this Easter-tide 

To bear from day to day 
Whate'er Thou deemeth best for us ; 

For this we humbly pray. 

If heavy clouds make dark the sky, 

Oh ! give us faith to see 
That clouds are better for our growth 

Than sunshine e'er could be. 

Help us to say, "Thy will be done," 

If sorrow be our part; 
E'en though we're called upon to give 

The best-loved of our heart. 

And keep our thoughts from envy, 
Unkindness and vain pride ; 

And guide our steps, oh ! Father, 
Through Life's whole Easter-tide. 



73 



TWO LITTLE SOLDIERS. 

September 3rd, 1901. 

Two babies' hands unveiled the stone, 
Where first unfurled in battle shone 

Our flag of thirteen bars, 

Our flag of thirteen stars, 
At Cooch's Bridge, in Delaware ; 
And lo ! defeated there, 
For on that warm September third, 
In Seventeen Seventy-Seven was heard 

No word of cheer for the thirteen stars, 

No word of cheer for the thirteen bars ; 
Defeat, defeat, defeat alone. 

Was all our dear flag knew ; 
When first unfurled in battle shone 
Its red and white and blue. 



74 




"A LITTLE SOLDIER. 



TWO LITTLE SOLDIERS. 

Two babies of our glorious land, 
Two "little soldiers," heart and hand, 

To live for freedom's cause, 

In peace, as well as wars ; 
In life's broad battlefield. 
To right alone to yield. 
'Twas fit that baby hands should raise 
The veil which hid the stone, whose praise 

Tells where our Hag in infancy 

First floated to the breezes free ; 
Aspire, wee ones, to noble deeds, 

And keep your wee hearts true ; 
In future action, future needs. 
Our country looks to you. 



75 



OUR RED, WHITE AND BLUE. 

Oh, Washington's Birthday we hail with de- 
light— 
The flags we have made are a beautiful sight — 
We wave them when marching like soldiers so 
true — 
The Stars and the Stripes of our Red, White 

and Blue, 
The Stars and the Stripes of our Red, White 
and Blue. 

Then, let our glad voices of Washington sing, 
As we place 'round his picture our flag ofifering, 
The country he loved, we must live for it, too, 
Its Stars and its Stripes, our loved Red, White 

and Blue, 
Its Stars and its Stripes, our loved Red, White 
and Blue. 



76 



BABY AMEE. 

Baby Amee, the world is wide, 

The sea of Life has a changeful tide, 

And oft on its topmost crest we ride 

Or sink in its depths of despair; 
But if duty's taken for our guide 
There's a haven found on the other side 

Be Life's voyage dark or fair. 

Baby Amee, the world is bright, 
There's the sun all day, the stars all night, 
When all seems to go wrong, 'twill soon go 
right, 
If we do the best we can do, 
We'll find this world to be full of light, 
And if our duty we never slight, 
• God blesses our efforts true. 



77 



THREE LITTLE FOLKS. 

Three little folks went sailing — 

Margaret and Herbert and Vee — 
Many a time to Nodland, 

Over billowy Byelow sea. 
'Twas up and down and down and up, 

Till they came to a sandy bar, 
And there stood a man, the old sandman, 

Loading sand on his old sand car. 

Three little folks went sailing — 

Margaret and Herbert and Vee — 
To the wonderful land of Slumber 

Where it's quiet as quiet can be. 
There the dream-lady greeted their coming 

And smilingly took them away 
To Toytown and Sugar-plum village. 

Till the dawn of another day. 



.78 



THREE LITTLE FOLKS. • 

Three little folks came sailing — 

Margaret and Herbert and Vee — 
Back from their journey with bright eyes 

As merry as merry could be. 
But their souvenir treasures of Nodland 

They loaned to the old sandman 
And the lady of dreams just scattered them 

By a wave of her magic fan. 

How often we journey to Nodland 

As Margaret and Herbert and Vee, 
And wish for the song of the captain 

Who rocked us o'er Byelow sea. 
But the Land of Slumber is sadly changed 

Now the dream-lady often annoys, 
Still she keeps as of old her toys and sweets 

For the wee small girls and boys. 



79 



HORTENSE. 

She captures your heart with her sweet Httle 

ways, 
She fathoms your soul with her innocent gaze. 
She's demure as a wren, and shy as a mouse, 
She takes by storm the whole of the house. 
She's good as an angel, and oh ! so wise, 
But 'most any day, when you least surmise, 
She frightens the baby half out of its sense, 
Does lovable, mischievous little Hortense. 



80 




'•HORTENSE." 



INDIAN PIPE. 

Once upon a summer evening- 
Many long, long years ago, 

When the country knew no pale-face, 
And the sky was all aglow 

With the beauty of the sunset, 

And the earth was clothed in green, 

Met and talked, two Indian chieftains, 
What they said will soon be seen. 

Said the elder to the young chief, 

"All the battles you have won, 
We are tired now of fighting. 

Let our warfare now be done." 
Interrupted then the young man, 

Ere the other's voice did cease, 
"We are tired, too, of fighting. 

Let us smoke the pipe of peace." 

Peace once more was made between them. 

And they took their homeward way ; 
Crossing stream and mount and meadow, 

And their wigwams reached next day. 
Gently then the flower angel, 

On the spot where peace was made. 
Placed the very strangest flower 

Ever seen on hill or glade. 



8i 



INDIAN PIPE. 

And in June you'll always find it, 

Growing on the roots of trees, 
Parasitic, pure white flower, 

Gives no fragrance to the breeze. 
From Quebec to Carolina, 

Westward then to Illinois, 
Is the limit of its boundaries, 

Indian pipe for girl or boy. 



82 



THE LEAVES. 

Down to earth the leaves came falling 
From the tree tops overhead, 

Running after one another, 
O'er the ground they sped, 
O'er the ground they sped. 

Some were brown and some were golden, 
And the children in their play, 

Ran among the leaves and shouted 
"This is fun to-day !" 
"This is fun to-day !'' 

Then a big breeze came and scattered 
O'er the ground some leaves of red, 

"We will take these home to mother," 
So the children said, 
So the children said. 



83 



LITTLE ELECTA CATHARINE. 

A little school house stands to-day 

Beside a country road, 
Where children climb in wisdom's ways 

With many a weighty load. 
Some seventy years ago there lived 

In a toll-house o'er the way, 
Little Electa Catharine, 

Who kept our Arbor Day. 

A sapling grew close by her home, 

A maple fair to see ; 
And this the little maiden claimed 

And always called "my tree," 
But alterations in the house, 

Decreed the young tree's fall, 
And so the little black-eyed maid 

Removed it, roots and all 



84 



• LITTLE ELECTA CATHARINE. 

And planted it quite near her school, 

Where sun and rain and air, 
Year after year, gave nourishment, 

Till the tree was wondrous fair. 
For sixty years it pleasure gave 

To those who sought its shade ; 
Her children oft have rested there, 

Her children's children played. 

Below the school, in summer time. 

The brook goes babbling still ; 
St. Andrew's Church is near at hand, 

Beyond is Tarififville. 
The tree is gone, yet doth it live 

In memory, so we say : 
'Thanks to the child who planted it, 

And kept our Arbor Day." 



85 



MRS. THOMPSON'S STORY. 

In the winter of seventeen seventy-nine, 

The provisions so oft were low 
At Morristown, that Washington 

And his men would sometimes go 
"Five or six days" without any meat, 
Then again days without bread to eat. 

Thus Washington's housekeeper oft was tried 

To supply in a proper way, 
The General's table as she thought 

It should be supplied each day. 
But Mrs. Thompson could manage well 
And her little story to you I'll tell. 

"We have naught but the rations to cook to- 
day," 

One day she complained to the Chief, 
"Then just the rations you must cook. 

For this there is no relief, 
I hav'n't a farthing to give to you," 
Said Washington the brave and true. 



86 



MRS. THOMrSON S STORY. 

"If you please, sir," the housekeeper answer 
made, 

"Let one of the gentlemen write 
An order for bushels of salt — say six — 

And give it to me to-night." 
"Six bushels of salt !" exclaimed the Chief, 
"Please, sir, six bushels to salt fresh beef." 

The order was given by one of the aides, 
And Washington's table was laid 

Next day with an ample supply, for which 
He thought Mrs. Thompson paid. 

He sent for her and said with regret : 

"Already I owe you too great a debt. 

Our position is not at this moment such 

To induce very sanguine hope." 
"Dear sir," Mrs. Thompson then made reply, 

As she tried with his thought to cope, 
" 'Tis always darkest before the light ; 
Forgive me, please, if it were not right. 

To barter the salt with the people near. 

To better supply our Chief; 
They were only too glad to exchange for salt 

With which to preserve their beef." 
Was Mrs. Thompson forgiven, think you? 
I do not know, though the story's true. 



87 



THE SOLDIERS. 

See the soldiers standing here ! 

Nicely in a line, 
Thumb is general, brave and strong, 

Pointer's colonel fine. 
Middle finger, captain tall, 

Guards the major lest he fall, 
And the one to give all joy 

Is the little drummer boy. 



LofC. 88 



WEE MARIE. 

As I watch wee little Marie, 

With her sunny, smiling face, 
And I note her dainty movements, 

And her witching, winning grace, 
I can almost fancy angels 

Are caressing her the while, 
For the light of heaven's reflected 

In the sweetness of her smile. 

When the twilight shadows deepen, 

Oft I see the little maid 
Watching for her father's coming, 

And her watch will be repaid 
By a kiss and words endearing, 

And though darkness deepens round, 
Faith and trust in his protection 

In her little heart is found. 

In the years to come, wee Marie, 

May your childhood faith keep bright, 
When the shadows of earth's sorrows 

Seem to hide the heavenly light ; 
As I watch thee, little Marie, 

Could one wish be granted me, 
I would ask the faith of childhood 

Could be given for aye to thee. 



89 



TO THE OLD PEAR TREE, 
TRURO, MASS. 

Tell me is the story true 
Which tradition gives of you? 
"That you sailed across the sea 
To this Land of Liberty, 
In the Mayflower long- ago ;" 
iell me, is it really so? 

Who of all that pilgrim band 

Placed you where you now do stand. 

As they went in search of springs 

Where the Pamet river sings? 

In the valley they selected, 

You've been surely well protected. 

You are now a goodly sight, 
And in spring your blossoms white 
Make you look a mound of snow, 
On your bark the hchens grow ; 
Tell me did an Indian maid 
Ever rest beneath your shade? 



90 



TO THE OLD PEAR TREE, TRURO, MASS, 

Forty miles o'er Cape Cod Bay 
Did the Mayflower sail away ; 
All but you who came are dead — 
Speak and tell me what they said, 
As they planted you that day, 
Ere they sailed across the bay. 

Keep your silence if you will 
You're a grand old landmark still. 
If tradition proves untrue. 
Yet is Truro proud of you. 
Live and flourish in the land 
By the ocean breezes fanned. 



91 



TREASURES. 

She is poor, as poor as can be, 

Yet her treasures I count most rare ; 

They're two wee lads, and a lassie bright, 
For whom she works both day and night ; 
Their love repays the constant care 
Given these jewels, so young and fair. 

Her neighbor is rich as can be, 

He has money and land and gold ; 
Yet he goes on saving ev'ry year. 
And no one loves him, so I hear. 
His locks are white, he is growing old, 
Guarding his money and land and gold. 

I deem her richer far than he, 

In the love of children and friends. 

Ah ! why should she envy him his gold? 

What is it worth when life is told? 
For into the life that never ends, 
She'll carry the love of home and friends. 



92 



BUILDING. 

One summer day by a mountain lake 

Two children — Aeneid and Bee ; 
Piled up the sand and buried their hands 

And laughed in childish glee. 
Laughed to see their castles cave in 

As they drew out each little hand, 
Then patiently builded them over again 

In a way less broad and grand. 

And I thought as I watched these two little 
maids 

Of the lesson their building taught, 
How 'tis best to laugh when our dearest plan 

Proves a failure and comes to naught. 
And then to begin in a simpler way, 

As did black-eyed Aeneid and Bee, 
For success can but come if we work away 

With a smile and patiently. 



93 



A BOY'S HEART. 

A boy's heart is past understanding, 

Though win it you can if you try ; 
Don't think your time wasted nor love thrown 
away, 

For your teaching sometime, by and by, 
When least you expect it a conscience will find, 

That now seems quite hidden from sight, 
And the thoughtless and heedless and noisy 
school boy 

Will suddenly awaken to right. 
So be patient and kind, and you'll find you've a 
key 

To the boy who seems heartless today ; 
And remember, no effort to help in this life 

Will ever be quite thrown away. 



94 



TOMORROW. 

"Oh, yes," we say, "tomorrow will do," 

And we let the present slip by, 
The word of cheer, some one needs to hear, 
We neglect to speak, and isn't it queer, 

We think, when too late, you and I. 

"Tomorrow will do," and we fold our hands, 

And to-day glides into the past ; 
The little deed, for the friend in need. 
We fail to do, and our put off creed 

We recall in sorrow at last. 

"Tomorrow," we say, "tomorrow will do," 

But to-morrow will never be thine, 
'Tis a phantom time, in unknown clime, 
And does not record one act sublime, 

Which should have been yours or been mine. 

To-morrow — but why not to-day let us do 
The deeds that will lessen some sorrow, 

And gladden some face and cheer some place? 

For only acts that will bring disgrace 
Should be left for the phantom tomorrow. 



95 



Dec d(^]0Q| 



DEC 17 1901 



BRARY OF CONGRESS 

iliiiiMiiiiiir 

018 604 380 7 



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